


make me out of clay

by myrmidryad



Series: show me something new [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dominant Grantaire, Gags, Humiliation, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Submissive Enjolras, gagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 06:46:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2571992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrmidryad/pseuds/myrmidryad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The idea of getting Grantaire a spare key has come to him several times, but he dismisses it whenever it does. A key would speak of permanence, and whatever he and Grantaire are, they both know this thing between them won’t last. It’s just sex. Casual and simple, no strings, no emotions.</p><p>And the sex is amazing, so Enjolras won’t complain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	make me out of clay

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [The Writer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H-ru2glqXAg) by Ellie Goulding.
> 
> Guess who's had subjolras on the brain today and decided to make that oneshot from about a year ago into an actual series? :D

They never spoke about it in the morning, which Enjolras knows is his fault. He didn’t want to talk about it, so he made sure the opportunity came and went, sleeping in until he needed to leave in a hurry, trusting Grantaire to lock up when he left.

The idea of getting Grantaire a spare key has come to him several times, but he dismisses it whenever it does. A key would speak of permanence, and whatever he and Grantaire are, they both know this thing between them won’t last. It’s just sex. Casual and simple, no strings, no emotions.

And the sex is amazing, so Enjolras won’t complain.

He doesn’t go to Grantaire’s apartment, because Grantaire shares his apartment with Jehan, and it’s not as though Enjolras doesn’t love his friends, but he doesn’t want his…thing…with Grantaire to be general knowledge. If anyone knows, so far they’re ignoring it. So Grantaire comes to his, never fewer than once every two weeks. Sometimes he’ll trail Enjolras home after a meeting, sometimes he’ll text, sometimes Enjolras will call him.

And when he’s there, Enjolras can let loose a little. Grantaire’s picked up on the things he likes, and gleefully applies himself to pulling hard on Enjolras’ hair, pinching him, scratching him, biting him. He leaves marks that last for days, and Enjolras loves it. His sexual experience before Grantaire amounts to two awkward fumblings in university and a few kisses here and there. He’s never had time to date, but what he has with Grantaire is a far cry from dating.

Jittery one night, Enjolras pushes himself back in his chair and pulls his shirt off, too annoyed at his lack of progress to continue working. He opens up one of his favourite porn sites instead, and strokes a hand down his stomach, looking down at the bruises Grantaire left from his last visit. They’ve faded to pale pink now, the largest and darkest right over his left nipple. Remembering the way Grantaire had used his tongue and teeth there has heat pooling in Enjolras’ stomach, jitters easily channelled into arousal.

Compared to that memory, porn loses its appeal. Enjolras has Grantaire’s contact page open on his phone almost without thinking about it, waiting through the rings for Grantaire to pick up.

“What’s up, blondie?”

“Are you free right now?”

R hums. “I could be. Want me over?”

“Yes.”

“Then over I’ll be. Half an hour max.” He hangs up, and Enjolras bites his lip, wondering whether to jerk off now or wait.

He waits. He can’t keep working on his article, so he works his way through a few of the videos on his watch later list on YouTube. Grantaire knows the code to get into his building, so he announces his arrival by knocking loudly on the door. Enjolras only realises when he opens it that he never bothered putting his shirt back on. Grantaire laughs at the sight and crowds him against the wall, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Well don’t you look pretty?”

“Shut up.” Enjolras nudges his forehead up and kisses him, relaxation easing his shoulders for the first time all day. Possibly for the first time all week.

“Bossy.” Grantaire closes his teeth on Enjolras’ lower lip and tugs, stretching it out before letting it go. “I should shut you up.”

Satisfaction thrums under Enjolras’ skin. “Go on then.”

“Needy, aren’t you?” Grantaire’s teasing is the best and worst thing about having sex with him. He never loses control, never lets up with his commentary and verbal jabs, but when they’re like this, it just make Enjolras want more.

Not that he’ll ever show it, so he shoves at Grantaire and scowls. “Fuck off.”

Grantaire laughs, as Enjolras knew he would, and hooks a finger in Enjolras’ belt-loop to yank him forward, their hips banging together as he sinks savage teeth into Enjolras’ neck.

Goosebumps race down his back and his breath catches, but Enjolras manages to keep his voice steady as he says, “What are you, a vampire?” Grantaire laughs again, kisses the spot he’s bitten, and Enjolras gets a hand in the material of his shirt and tugs, pulling him towards the bedroom. “Come on, hurry up.”

“Needy and greedy,” Grantaire taunts, and smacks Enjolras’ ass as they step into the bedroom. Enjolras jumps, sudden heat twisting through his belly, and he can tell his face is scorching when Grantaire snickers at the sight.

“Says the guy who jumps to attention whenever I call,” Enjolras snaps, and Grantaire shakes his head and pulls his shirt off.

“You wound me.”

“You bore me.” He wants that heat back, wants this trading of insults to be over already, for Grantaire to make good on his word and shut him up. “Maybe I should’ve just taken care of myself.”

Grantaire shakes his head again and steps closer, pulling something from his pocket. Enjolras’ mouth is already open when Grantaire pushes the gag between his teeth, a thick leathery bit of sorts with thinner, softer sides. Grantaire laughs as he ties it tightly at the base of Enjolras’ neck, pulling his hair out over it and giving it a tug. “I’m not needy,” he grins, voice pitched high in poor imitation of Enjolras. “I didn’t just literally open my mouth to be gagged.” 

Enjolras scowls at him, cheeks burning, but it feels so _good_. This gag is new, something Grantaire must have bought just for him, and when Grantaire pushes him down onto the bed and pulls his jeans off, Enjolras doesn’t resist.

This is what he wanted when he asked Grantaire over, what he was hoping to get when he snapped and insulted him, pushing for punishment.

Naked, he shivers as Grantaire strips as well and climbs on top of him, his weight and strength too perfect for words. Enjolras’ lube is on the nightstand, and he grabs it and puts it on the bed before pulling Grantaire closer and arching up against him.

Grantaire kisses him everywhere, from the tips of his fingers to the soles of his feet, coaxing Enjolras’ whines from annoyed to desperate as he bites and sucks, scores red lines down Enjolras’ chest and leaves stubble burn between his thighs. That’s something he’s never done before, and Enjolras writhes at the sensation, one of Grantaire’s hands on each of his thighs to keep him as still as possible as he rubs and rubs until the skin there is raw. He kisses it as an apology, and fingers Enjolras open rough and quick, patience slipping away.

The more vocal Enjolras becomes, the more worked up Grantaire gets. It’s embarrassing, but worth it. Enjolras is sweating by the time Grantaire finally slicks up his cock, and just as he’s getting ready to slide in, Enjolras rolls over and lifts his hips.

“Like this?” Grantaire squeezes his ass and Enjolras presses his face into the duvet and makes a noise of agreement, high and breathless. “Sure?”

Enjolras nods, and Grantaire spreads his cheeks with hot hands and pushes in slowly. It’s uncomfortable for a few moments, the first few thrusts making Enjolras’ breath catch in almost-pain instead of pleasure, but then Grantaire readjusts, leans forward on his elbows, and Enjolras shudders under him.

“Good?” Grantaire’s skin against his burns, his words low in Enjolras’ ear. Enjolras nods, eyes squeezed shut, and scrambles to grab his hands. Lacing their fingers together like this, with Grantaire’s weight pressing him down, it’s like he’s being pinned.

The thought makes him cry out around the gag, thrusting back into Grantaire and forward against the bed. It’ll be messy, it’ll be disgusting, he’ll hate himself when he has to change the covers, but right now…

“You really wanted this, didn’t you?” Grantaire breathes, hot and damp on his shoulder, thrusting in a steady rhythm that sends fire up Enjolras’ spine. He squeezes Enjolras’ hands and bites down, sucks, releases the skin with a pop. There’ll be a purple mark there by the time he’s done, Enjolras knows. “You were _desperate_ for it.”

It’s true, it’s _true_ , and the high-pitched whine of confirmation slips out before Enjolras can stop it. Grantaire’s breathless laugh is humiliating, but it makes Enjolras’ cock twitch against the insufficient pressure of the bed. God, what is wrong with him? He’s too turned on to care. Grantaire keeps sucking and biting at his shoulders, and the sting wouldn’t be enough if it weren’t for the crushing grip Grantaire has on his hands now. He’s really being pinned, shoved down against the bed and taken, _claimed_.

It feels so good he can’t think. He can’t move enough against the bed, he needs a hand on his cock, or a firmer surface, anything, but the tease is somehow even better. The _almost there_ is driving him wild, the most obscene noises bursting from his mouth, muffled around the gag, a restriction he can’t get away from, pressure on his tongue, saliva trickling down his chin and cheek.

“Drooling for me, Enjolras?” Grantaire smirks against his neck, and Enjolras makes a broken sound as he comes, orgasm slamming through him as he bites down hard on the gag. Grantaire is all around him, body burning against Enjolras’ as he keeps fucking him, drawing out the aftershocks until Enjolras’ mind is blank, nothing in his head at all save the recognition of the sensations Grantaire brings out in him.

Grantaire doesn’t come for another minute, and being fucked so hard after coming dances between discomfort and bliss, shocked whimpers muffled against the duvet whenever Grantaire hits his prostate and makes him jerk, oversensitive almost to the point of pain.

When Grantaire gasps against his neck and stills, hips just twitching a few more times, Enjolras moans softly. He stays still, warm and pliant as Grantaire lifts himself off him (skin sticking in places) and kneels up. Enjolras’ fingers move against the duvet, pulling fistfuls up to hold onto now that Grantaire’s hands are gone. Gentle hands stroke down the curve of his back, dip between his cheeks to clean him up. The weight vanishes completely, and Enjolras lets himself be rolled sideways, eyes closed as Grantaire wipes away the mess on his dick and stomach. He’s too relaxed to be embarrassed right now.

Grantaire’s lips press against his forehead, and Enjolras makes himself sit up, weak hands lifting to the gag. “I’ve got it.” Grantaire smiles, none of the arrogance of earlier present. He unties the gag, pulls it gently from between Enjolras’ lips, and hugs him when Enjolras practically falls into his arms, head on Grantaire’s shoulder.

He smells wonderful, and he’s so warm and soft. Enjolras sighs and cuddles closer, face against Grantaire’s neck. If he never has to move again, he’ll die happy. He’s floating free, muscles loose, sleep hovering close by, and everything’s perfect.

“You good?” Grantaire kisses the top of his head, and Enjolras hums.

“Mmhmm.” He only hesitates for a moment before speaking again, usual caution eroded by pleasure. “Can you stay?” 

Grantaire makes a noise of affirmation, but Enjolras is already flushing with embarrassment. He’s never needed anyone like this before, and he’s certainly never let himself slip up like that before.

Grantaire either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, and they leave the stain on top of the duvet for Enjolras to take care of tomorrow, huddling close underneath. Grantaire goes to brush his teeth, and Enjolras’ stomach is a tense ball while he’s gone. As soon as he comes back, Enjolras curls close, plastering himself to Grantaire’s back and fitting their bodies together.

They don’t speak, and Enjolras presses his forehead to the back of Grantaire’s neck and pretends that everything’s fine, that he wasn’t on edge until Grantaire came back, that he doesn’t want Grantaire to wrap him up and hold him and stay forever.

But he does want Grantaire to stay. He wants his tenderness and his taunts. He wants to be pinned again, manhandled, tied up, tied down, driven to the point he got to tonight. But just the idea of vocalising those desires, the notion of _asking_ for them…

He hides his burning face in Grantaire’s hair and forces the thoughts out of his head, settling back into the relaxed, empty place he’d found with the gag in his mouth and Grantaire’s weight holding him still.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, please consider [buying me a coffee!](https://ko-fi.com/A221HQ9) <3


End file.
